


a little bar fight never killed anyone

by emmaofmisthaven



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairytale Land, F/F, Hook!Milah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-03-21
Packaged: 2018-03-18 23:17:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3587691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaofmisthaven/pseuds/emmaofmisthaven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Milah smiles that wolfish grin of hers. Whatever happened that evening is a great source of amusement for her, and Emma wants to groan already. It can only mean one thing – she made a fool of herself, as she always tends to do when Milah brings her to a pirate town, a pirate pub, a pirate anything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a little bar fight never killed anyone

All things considered, this was not such a good idea. At least that’s what Emma thinks as she wakes up with the most dreadful headache she ever had, like the pounding of a hundred war drums on her skull. She winces at the pain, presses two fingers to her temple as if it would help. It doesn’t, quite obviously, but she feels the wetness there, and isn’t surprised when she sees the blood coating her fingers.

She waits a few seconds, if only for her eyes to focus on the room around her instead of everything being blurry, before she attempts to sit up. The headache worsens, but at least it allows her to find her bearings in the barely-lit room. Emma almost sighs in relief at the sight of the wooden desk, the shiny sword in a corner, books lining on a shelf. The quiet pitch of the ship also helps understanding where she is.

The Jolly Roger.

At least that’s something.

Tentatively, she lets her bare feet fall to the floor and stands up. It takes time for her to find her balance, but perhaps it has more to do with still not having her sea legs than with her injury to the head.

Injury she barely remembers getting, that is a problem. But a problem soon to be resolved as the trap opens above her head and Milah – Captain Hook, whatever – comes down, holding a tray of food in her good hand. She looks Emma up and down as she puts the tray on the desk then moves to another corner of the cabin to fetch some water and relatively clean rags.

Emma accepts it all, and sighs when she presses the wet clothe to her forehead. The cold eases the pain, if only slightly, and it is all she is asking for at the moment. That, and food of course, her stomach coming to life at the sight of bread, cheese and fruits on the tray Milah brought her.

(She knows she is being spoiled because of her status, that such ships don’t usually carry that kind of goods, but she doesn’t find it in herself to care when the grape pops in her mouth, its juice sweet on her tongue.)

“What happened?” she asks as she washes down her meal with a sip of lukewarm beer.

Milah smiles that wolfish grin of hers. Whatever happened that evening is a great source of amusement for her, and Emma wants to groan already. It can only mean one thing – she made a fool of herself, as she always tends to do when Milah brings her to a pirate town, a pirate pub, a pirate anything.

“So you do indeed not remember,” the captain replies as she leans against the desk, folding her arms and crossing her ankles. “Interesting.”

Emma wants to roll her eyes, but it would only worsen her headache, so she settles for glaring at Milah instead. Thankfully, the pirate gets the message loud and clear, and so throws herself into more detailed explanations. Without getting rid of the smirk, of course, not that Emma expected her to.

“You were playing cards with a sailor, and were winning at that. He got upset, accused you of hiding cards in your sleeves. Things got heated, of course, and he tried to grab your arm to show everyone you were cheating.”

“I punched him in the face.”

It comes back to her, flashes of memories – the rancid smell of the man’s breath, the cold golden coins between her fingers, the burning alcohol in her throat. Milah’s huff of laughter brings her back to reality, thought, and Emma frowns slightly.

“I was cheating, although not with cards in my sleeves.”

“Of course you were,” Milah replies, never one to be scared off by magic – not when her coward of a husband turned out to be the Dark One, not when Emma’s little tricks look harmless next to the darkest of magic. “You started a brawl, of course. My men jumped to your rescue, because they are quite obviously loyal to you now.”

It is Emma’s time to laugh. Milah’s men are loyal to Captain Hook, first and foremost, both of them are perfectly aware of that. But it would be lying to say Emma hasn’t won them over in the few weeks she has spent aboard the ship – with a kind word and even kinder smile, but mostly with her skills at the sword, and her powers with magic. She owns their respect, if not their allegiance.

Still, it is pleasing to know they would go out of their way to fight by her side, even in a bar brawl.

“Someone knocked you over with a bottle at some point, hence the,” Milah finishes her sentence by pointing Emma’s head wound with her hook, the sympathetic grimace on her face soon turning into yet another grin. “You fainted. Straight into my arms.”

It is the breaking point.

Emma groans and hides her face in her hands, already guessing the consequences of such a weakness – Milah is never going to let her live it down. Not that she wouldn’t do the exact same thing, were the roles reversed, but at least Emma would have the upper hand. Now, she is going to be made fun of for being a precious little princess, unable to hold her own when fighting drunken pirates. Exactly what she needed.

“You know,” Milah goes on, because of course she goes on, “if you wanted my attention, you needn’t go to such extremes.”

When Emma looks at her through her fingers, it’s with burning cheeks pressed to the palms of her hands and warmth pooling in her belly.


End file.
